


Realization

by prometheanTactician



Series: Antonyms [1]
Category: Homestuck, Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, ddpi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2067372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prometheanTactician/pseuds/prometheanTactician
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diamonds Droog attempts to wrap his head around actually caring about someone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Realization

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be writing some parallels for fics. Like a mobsterswitch alternative to non-mobsterswitch fics and vice versa. So, y'know, any similarities to other fics are intentional.

Your name is Diamonds Droog, and this is not your bed.

However, you already knew that, through the vivid memories of the previous night that had hit you the moment you awoke. You remember showing up at the Inspectors for tea. As always, you swore to yourself you would end him after you had the chance to enjoy the always impeccable brew, cut off this nonsense before it went any further. Also as always, you failed to do so and ended up thoroughly screwing him into the mattress, making him scream your name and, afterwards, falling asleep with him wrapped in your arms.

This has got to stop.

It's completely idiotic, this attachment, and it is doomed to be your end. You stir, and the man beside you stays fast asleep even as you remove him from your arms, sit up and look down at him. You need to end this, here and now. It was bad enough when you were just fucking him, but now you think you might actually care. That never should've been allowed to happen, and it cannot continue.

You sit up slowly, as not to wake him. You will admit that you cannot kill him while he's awake. Those big, watery blue eyes look at you with such sickening adoration, trust he should be smart enough not to waste on you, and you can't do it. But now he's asleep. Slowly, very slowly, you come to hold yourself over him, straddling him in a mockery of the previous nights events. You fit your large hands over his scrawny throat, feeling the bones there. He's a small man, and only one hand would be needed, but you can't risk that right now. Your hands cover marks from the previous night, when you had cut the air from his lungs carefully, counting the time, watching him close, making sure you didn't push too far. You were so careful with him, but now all bets are off. All you have to do is squeeze. He's taller than you, but you are broader, stronger. For all his intelligence he is physically weak and will never be able to overpower you. The hardest part will be seeing the terror in his eyes when he realizes what you're doing. The betrayal. The despair. However, you are a professional, and you will ignore it. He will be just another one of your victims. Nothing more.

But your eyes linger on his face as he rests. No nervous fidgeting, no troubled, anxious expression. He looks utterly content. He looks happy. You think of him looking like that, wrapped in your arms, pressed close and holding you in return.

You can't do it.

You pull one hand away, and the other slides up to just hold his cheek. Slowly, tentatively, he opens his eyes. It's with a dull pang in your heart that you realize he was awake the whole time, forced himself to relax and stay still as you debated killing him. No. No, you didn't debate it. You tried to talk yourself into it, and he would've known that, because he knows you. He just trusted you not to do it.

“You are the stupidest genius I have ever met.” You almost cringe at the slight tone of affection infecting your otherwise flat voice, speaking softly in the still morning air. He just smiles at you, and it occurs to you that if you'd killed him, no one else would have inspired such warmth in you as you feel looking down at him.

“I wasn't wrong.” He's just as quiet, almost whispering, free of stutter or stumbling. Your hand comes down to trace the bruises on his neck.

“You could've been. The way you trust me is... unhealthy.” You make a face, thinking of what you'd intended to do. It'd seemed like such a good idea at the time, too. It always did. He's still smiling, and leans up to kiss you. It's soft, gentle. When this had started, you'd been surprised you had the capacity for such things. Now it almost seems natural.

“It's worked for me so far.” He's speaking against your lips, and the moment is so intimate, so content, that you almost kill him just for what he says afterwards. “I d-do have to go to work, though.” There's the stutter. He knows you won't appreciate that, and your constantly neutral expression turns down in a slight frown.

“Not today, I think.”

“I h-have to. They need me.” They do. Sleuth has his charisma and Ace has his muscle, but they're nothing without the Inspector's brain. Mind-boggling as it was, they somehow managed to be more useless apart than they were together. You'd initially been surprised that that was possible. You kiss him again. You're not a people person, but he's easily swayed, and you are persistent.

“Just for today.” You mumble, speaking between kisses. “Stay in bed.” Another kiss. “You won't regret it.” The next kiss is harder, more insistent. You press him back to lying down, into the mattress, one hand holding his head and the other feeling down his side. You can feel his ribs, and make a mental note to make sure he eats breakfast. When you finally pull back from that one, he's gasping for air, a dazed look in his eye. You smile, all sharpness and malice. “Trust me.”

He smiles in return, a much more honest expression than you're own. He's so open, you can hardly imagine how he's survived without you watching his back.

“Okay.” He nods, finally, running a hand back through your hair. “I- I'll call. Tell them th-that I'm sick.” Your previous smile ebbs into something more subtle, more honest. You kiss him again, because you can. 

And because now he won't find out about that half a block Deuce and Boxcars took out last night, while you and Slick distracted two of the City's top detectives.


End file.
